The Bracing Jump Into the Abyss of Immortality
by dearcharlie
Summary: Harold Waldorf decides to bring his family to Mystic Falls for the holidays where he has plans of business, and arranged engagements for his daughter with a Salvatore, and not the one she finds herself preferring. Set in 1863.
1. Chapter 1

**When the World Flew Away from Her Reach**

It was late in November, right after thanksgiving, when Harold Waldorf suggested that his family spend the holidays in a quaint town in Virginia. There was talk about a business proposal, a valuable ally, and something else he and Eleanor talked about behind closed doors without their daughter. Blair listened though, pressing her ear against the cold door. Something about a plant. Or was it a flower? They were talking in hushed voices. What was in this town that has got Harold and Eleanor hiding information from their daughter?

She sighed, giving up after just ten minutes of trying to listen. She hurried back into her room and pondered on another thing her father has told her over dinner about their visit to Mystic Falls. There were boys. Brothers, actually. Harold obviously insisted on the younger Salvatore as he was smart, responsible, and 'will make a good husband'. Whenever she inquired about the other brother, he shrugged, almost cringed, and then changed the topic back to Stefan.

A panic took over her. Were her father's words of proposal and allies his way of hinting a marriage with the younger Salvatore? Surely he would not do what his friends have done to their children, would he? She was his only daughter, and for him to give her away to someone she's never even met would be such a scandal… for her. Not to mention he's told her all her life that he would be supportive of whatever it was she wanted to do. She chose her friends, her clothes, her ways, her future. He never meddled. He was quite proud.

As their coach rounded about the Salvatore Estate, Blair braced herself for what was to come. She had a terrible feeling about this town. Just its name was irking—Mystic Falls. She should have never agreed to coming along since her best friend Serena has asked her to spend the holidays with her and her family. She should have taken the opportunity to miss a signing of a pact. She should have never followed her curiosity.

There were two men waiting for them by the entrance: a young lad, probably Stefan, and an older gentleman, Giuseppe Salvatore, his father. There was no sign of any other men in the house. Has Harold been shrugging when it came to discussing Stefan's brother because he was deceased? She speculated. She has been speculating ever since they left New York.

"A, Harold! Old friend, how have you been? And Eleanor, lovely as always." Giuseppe shook Harold's hand. He had a smile Blair has presumed practiced, like the smiles of her parent's friends back home.

"And this must be your Blair," he then turned to Blair and took her hands in his. She nodded and smiled politely. Giuseppe led her a few steps up and patted his son's back.

"Introduce yourself, son."

"I am Stefan Salvatore," he took her hand and kissed the top of it, "it is good to finally meet you Miss Waldorf."

"Same," she smiled, discreetly pulling her hand away from him.

"You would have to excuse Stefan's brother for not being with us at the moment. He is always missing during these occasions. Forgive me."

"That's alright Giuseppe. Boys will truly be boys."

"I'm afraid that might be true."

Giuseppe led the Waldorfs inside their home, going on and on about Stefan, his academic attainment, his wonderful traits and abilities. Blair sat back, suppressing a yawn. It wasn't like Stefan looked boring. He had his fair share of looks. One might say he was rather handsome, but she has been around his kind of gentlemen all of her life. Uptight, scholarly, studious, supposedly has a sense of direction. It was like they all came from one source and that each one is just a copy of the other.

After tea and supper, Blair was allowed to wander the household with Stefan as her guide since the adults were to have further discussions about _that_ herb. She could never say the name of it right, not that she had any interest in it.

Due to a strong, very rare, distaste for wander, she retired to her chambers and went to bed early, only to find herself not so sleepy and very much awake. She lay in silence as she thought of her stay with the Salvatores. So far they've been good people. Despite Giuseppe's pride and ego, everything else was normal. She and Stefan exchanged very few words as he walked her to her room to bid her good night. He was sweet. He kept his hands and thoughts to himself and let her talk, which was her favorite thing about him so far. Usually men wanted to get their word in on everything. Not him. He was the perfect gentleman.

She closed her eyes and imagined the beautiful fields they passed by on their way to Mystic Falls and what seemed to be a minute's rest was disturbed by a flash of light. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light. Dorota had drawn the curtains to let in the morning light. She groaned and pulled the covers up above her head.

"Miss Blair, your mother has requested that you join them and the Salvatores for breakfast."

"No."

"But miss Blair. Someone has just arrived."

She rolled the sheets down to her chin and raised an eyebrow at her handmaiden.

"I believe it is the older son of Master Salvatore."

"Really?" She had to stop herself from smiling.

"Shall I get your dress?"

"Yes _please_, Dorota,"

Ah yes. The mysterious older Salvatore whose name nobody has yet confided upon her. Stefan mentioned him once or twice during their tour, but he only referred to him as "my brother". Blair took only a few minutes of getting dressed rather than her usual ritual of taking time. She did not want one of the masters of the house to wait on her. That would have been rude. She stepped down the stairs slowly, letting them here her steps on the case. She was hearing laughter. Who knew Stefan Salvatore knew how to laugh?

A smile crept on her face upon entering the room seeing her delighted parents, a disappointed Giuseppe, Stefan, and a dark haired man with blue eyes, all seated around the table. He was telling jokes with his brother. It intrigued her. She expected sibling rivalry. But no. The Salvatore brothers were close. They were not just brothers. They were _best_ friends.

She caught his eye soon enough, as have most of the people in the room. He stood from his seat and walked toward her with a devilish grin on his face.

"Good morning Miss Waldorf, I'm Damon Salvatore," he did as his brother, kissed her hand. She didn't know why but she felt her heart stop the moment his lips touched her skin.

"Please, call me Blair."

Damon kept his grin intact as he ushered her to the seat in between him and Stefan. Giuseppe kept quiet with his tea while watching the children interact with one another. Eleanor kept a close eye on Blair and how she was leaning towards the wrong brother.

"I apologize for not being here yesterday for your arrival, Miss Waldorf,"

"That's alright,"

He smiled at her as if they have been friends for a long time and she rests her eyes on his cheek, too scared that if he looked in his blue eyes that she might do something stupid like maybe faint or laugh or fall off her chair. He had an aura that was intimidating and it overshadowed hers, which she wouldn't admit, bothered her.

Blair forced herself to finish eating, not to mention finish drinking Giuseppe's horrible tea. He didn't even say where he got it from when she asked. It wasn't like it was the key to his youth. His years could be seen on the wrinkles on his face. What was so special about it that even her mother was trying to stomach the beverage?

That afternoon Blair decided that she would step out and take a walk. There was nothing she wanted to do inside the house. She spent all day trying to avoid the Salvatores. She was just on her way out when she heard voices arguing.

She took a quick peek and saw Giuseppe, his back to the door, and Damon sitting comfortably on one of the armchairs. She pulled her head back and listened.

"When are you going to grow up, Damon? Look at your brother. He is on his way to study at the university next fall! And where are you? Still here. Doing nothing. Being nothing!"

"I get it from my father," Damon sneered.

"Why you little—"

She imagined he was going to hit him so out of nowhere she popped out of the shadowy corner where she hid.

"Mr. Salvatore!" She suddenly found herself in a bit of a rut. Her heart was pounding heavily inside her chest. It was the only thing she could hear.

Giuseppe lowered his hand and turned to her.

"I'm so sorry for intruding but I can't seem to find my parents. Would it be alright if you tell them I stepped out for a bit if you see them?"

"Of course, dear. Where are you headed to though?"

"Oh just out for a walk."

"Alright then," Giuseppe nodded and turned back to his son but he was already on his feet, walking towards the door.

"Let me accompany you. You might get lost in the undergrowth." Damon called out to Blair.

She didn't say anything back. She just kept walking until she was outside. The cool air gave her a chill with its surprise. She clasped her hands together. How could she have forgotten that it was December and snowing? Maybe because it was so warm inside.

"Eavesdropping is rude, you know." Damon said.

"I wasn't eavesdropping. I was curious."

Damon smiled at this. Never has he met a girl who refused to apologize for her actions.

"I heard from Stefan that you will be staying for the holidays."

"I guess so. Unless I die from a cold." She sounded bored. She always tried to sound bored when she was with someone she barely knew. It was to test if they really wanted her.

"It was your idea to go for a walk. At first I thought you were joking but then you practically ran outside."

"I was bored. There's nothing to do in that big old house of yours."

"Have you seen all of it?" He stood in close proximity to her that she found herself holding her breath.

"All of what?"

"The house. Believe me you wouldn't be bored."

"Stefan already gave me a tour last night,"

"But _I_ haven't," he smirked, "come on, Miss Waldorf. Seeing the house from my eyes would be absolutely more fun. Did he show you the prison cell?"

"There's a_ prison_ cell?"

His smirk escalated into a full grin as he offered her his arm. She reluctantly rested her hand on the crook of it and followed him as he gave her his grand tour which started with the cell. She was so curious as to why such a thing could exist in a warm house of friendly people. Damon said he didn't know either, with hesitation, and led her back up because someone might see them.

"And I do not want to have to hear another word coming out of his mouth for today." He said. "I love how you shut him up though."

Blair smiled, feeling accomplished. He then led her to one of the many studies. He claimed it to be his favorite since it was his mother's favorite even though it was probably the smallest room in the house. He let himself dwell on the topic of his mother. She was the most beautiful girl he's ever seen, Damon said. After a while he snapped back to what was now and carried on with his tour. She mused on the fact that he never mentioned his mother again. She kept herself from asking, and was too afraid of trying to do so. She had already stepped beyond the lines of formality with her questions about him and his family.

He was right though, his tour was much more fun than Stefan's. It was like every room came alive with memories of people who have been in them. And every now and again he would say a joke about his father and how he once tripped on a step on the stairs from frustration, or broke one of his mother's porcelain pieces when he had too much to drink.

Once they heard Giuseppe's horses head out, they snuck into his room. Blair was quite nervous. She didn't like it when there was a chance on earth that she might get in trouble. The last thing she wanted to be was in trouble in Mystic Falls where nobody had her back.

"We should not be in here," she whispered.

"Relax, Blair. I have done this a million times."

"What are we even doing here?"

"Touring," he turned to face Blair who stood still by the door, "this is my father's room also known as the lion's den, the king's quarters, _hell, _if you will_._"

"_Why_ are we here?"

Damon's smile turned into a frown. He consulted himself for a moment before getting back to Blair.

"I honestly have no idea."

"You are a very strange man, Mr. Salvatore,"

"You've been calling me that all day. Please, call me Damon. Mr. Salvatore is my father."

"Okay, _Damon_. You are a very strange man."

"Thank you, my lady."

"Blair, darling?" She heard her mother call out. She immediately stepped outside the room, and Damon ran after her, shutting the door as quietly as he could.

"Mother?" Blair called out.

Eleanor emerged from the staircase and gave the pair a disapproving look. "A word, please? Alone."

"Oh, alright." She followed her mother down the stairs again, looking back at Damon who watched as she followed helplessly. Sorry, she mouthed, obviously not wanting to end her tour there. There was so much more she wanted to know, so much more he wanted to show her. But of course parents would find ways to miraculously show up during the climax of it all.

Eleanor went to the small study where Damon had brought Blair earlier—his mother's favorite room. It felt so cold and dark without him to lighten it up, but of course her mother didn't really help with the lighting.

They sat across from each other silently. Blair already knew what was to come of their conversation. Eleanor was going to stress the importance of being a lady in a stranger's house. She was going to advise not being so friendly with Damon. She would suggest seeking for Stefan's help instead.

"What were you doing with Damon Salvatore, dear?" Eleanor always started her speeches calm and collected. That way the person she was giving her speech to wouldn't know if something was wrong or not, but Blair knew. She's had a fair amount of speeches for her lifetime.

"He was just giving me a tour of the house, mother."

"I have been looking for you everywhere—"

"Me too," she countered.

"It is not proper for a lady to just go about alone with a man she barely knows."

"He was just being a good host."

"And besides, I thought Stefan had already given you the tour."

"It was cut short. I grew tired."

"My darling, you should watch yourself with Damon Salvatore. He is not as studios and as gentlemanly as his brother is."

"I know how to handle myself mother. Is that all?"

"We are not here for him." Eleanor's tone hardened.

"Then what are we here for? What am_ I_ here for, mother?"

"You will learn in time."

"Let's just cut to it and admit that you want me for Stefan. You and father. You did not raise a naive child. I know when something is up. And I will let you know now that I will not follow through with this… _arrangement_." She sneered and left Eleanor dumbfounded.

That evening Blair didn't come down for breakfast. She locked herself up in her room and turned in early for bed. Her father knew once Blair retreated to herself that nobody could pry her out of it no matter how hard they tried, so he let her be. She sulked and thought of ways she could get home. Maybe she could pretend to be sick. But she heard there were very competent doctors in Mystic Falls. Maybe she could run away. But New York was so far that even her horses needed a day's rest halfway through the trip. She sighed and lied back on the mass of pillows on her bed. She was too young for this. She had the world in her hands, but it was as if it were flying from her reach.

* * *

><p><strong>NA:** I just can't stop myself, can I? Well I am proud of this. It has body. It has emotions. It has Harold Waldorf and Giuseppe Salvatore. And it was set 1863. I tend to plot things around the holidays. This will be short since it was supposed to be a one-shot anyway. Maybe two or three chapters just might do. I really hope you like this. XOXO.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sometimes the Hardest Thing and the Right Thing Are the Same**

Damon was on his way to bed. He was tired. He was cold. And he didn't want to stay downstairs to give his father the chance to give him another sermon. He just wanted to go to sleep, but he couldn't. He stood in front of his door, ready to retreat when something caught his eye: Blair's door across the hall from his. It was slightly opened. He couldn't see anything beyond it, just darkness. A never ending darkness. He sighed and looked back from her door to his hand on his doorknob. When he looked back at her door, Stefan had suddenly materialized from the stairs. He wasn't there a _second_ ago. His brother turned his head to where he was looking and saw Blair's open door too but unlike him, Stefan actually went to her. Damon retired in his room with a long sigh.

Stefan watched as his brother disappointingly closed his door. Once he knew nobody was around, he knocked lightly on Blair's door.

"Blair?" He whispered, but nobody answered. She must have been fast asleep. He could vaguely see a figure underneath the covers. The only thing that illuminated the room was the moonlight that found its way through the branches of the trees outside and onto her bed. He contemplated on stepping in, seeing if she was okay, but it wouldn't be right so ducked out, closed the door behind him, and left her in peace.

Blair sighed. She wasn't a sleep. In fact, she has been tossing and turning since the moment she lied down. And when Stefan closed the door she became more restless. She couldn't stand being in the dark. She always felt like somebody was going to pull her ankles from the bottom of her bed and maybe eat her. It was a terrible thing to imagine, but she knew monsters were real _somewhere._ They might have not been living under her bed, but she's heard stories about them. They never seem like monsters, no. They look beautiful, even. And you would never suspect them to be the animals that they are.

She got out of bed after what seemed like an hour of contemplating and opened her door just a bit to peep down the long hallway. It was empty. She was bored and she didn't feel like sleeping at all, plus she was hungry. She tiptoed all the way to the staircase and peered over the edge, trying to hear if her parents have gone to bed. Everything was quiet until she was startled by a pair of hands gripping on her shoulders. She almost screamed, but was immediately hushed by a hand clamping on her mouth softly.

"I thought you might fall over. It is a long way down." Damon grinned and let go of her once she found her balance. She frowned and pushed him off her.

"That was not a funny joke." Blair put her hand on her chest and felt her heart beating wildly. It was only then when she realized she was only in her nightgown, she turned around and started for her room.

"Why didn't you join us for dinner, Miss Waldorf?"

"I simply did not feel well," she said over her shoulder, not fully looking back at him.

"Are you going back to sleep?"

_No._ "Yes."

"Good night then, Miss Waldorf."

"Good night," she paused, "_Damon_."

She stepped into her dark room and watched as he turned back to his. Before entering, he looked back at her and smiled. She smiled back, she did, but it was a ghost of a smile, barely there. She was sure he didn't see it. She was in the dark after all. And his face looked disappointed when he closed his door. She took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, but not loud enough that people would hear. She just needed to let it out, the stress of the day. She crawled up in bed and wrapped the covers tightly around her. She swore she would not be consumed by her parent's conformity. She was half-raised not to anyway.

The following day brought Blair snow. She woke up before everyone else, freezing. She managed to get dressed by herself and put on her warmest cloak in a shade of green that she loved. She went down the stairs carefully, but quickly, and made her way outside.

The snowfall had thinned and she could see the vast landscape again, though each leaf and vine seemed to have coated itself with sugary snow. She was delighted. She has never seen this much snow in her life. She started walking. The sky was still gray and it was still the break of dawn but she found her way in the woods. She didn't know how she got there or why she walked into the veil of the unknown, she just knew she wanted to be alone far away from the normalcy of her life.

She kept track of the house. It was not very hard to miss. It was big and white and gray, and it was the only house in the middle of the great wood. Every now and again she would look back just to see if she could still have a view of it. The snow had finally stopped and the paths were clearer. She clasped her hands together and rubbed them for warmth. She was excited with the thought of being lost and treaded further.

Soon, in her wandering, she spotted a set of footprints headed deeper into the forest, where thicker and taller trees grew. She examined them. They looked fresh, but they certainly were not hers. She crouched down to take a better look, but she heard rustling leaves behind her in the bushes. She quickly turned around but nobody was there.

"Hello?" She called out. "Is anybody there?"

Nothing. Not even a whisper from the winds. She was alone, most definitely. _Probably just my imagination_, she thought. But it happened again, somewhere further down the human trail. She took a deep breath and started walking away from it and went back to the Salvatore Estate. She found her way safely. The deep breath she was holding was let out in a long sigh as she went through the back door. Dorota stood from her seat quickly upon her arrival, her eyes bulging and threatening to pop out from its sockets.

"Miss Blair! Where have you been? I look everywhere for you."

"Calm down, Dorota. I only went out for a walk." She offered her handmaid a smile but she only shook her head in disagreement.

"Mr. Salvatore also look for you."

"Damon?"

"_Stefan_, Miss." Dorota gave her a quizzical look which she dismissed and ignored.

Of course. She felt stupid for even thinking that Damon Salvatore would come and look for her. Of course it would be the younger, kinder brother. He was the responsible one. Surely he would not let any of their house guests get lost.

"Ah, there you are!" Stefan walked into the kitchen and straight to her. "Where have you been?"

"Out."

"Out? You mean the woods? You could have gotten lost."

"Mr. Salvatore, you underestimate my sense of direction." She walked past him and he followed.

"No. I only worry."

"You need not worry then. I'm a big girl. I can handle myself." She tossed him a smile over her shoulder and hurried up a few steps before being called out to again.

"Where are you going now?"

"My room. Don't worry, Stefan. I'm sure I can find my way."

Stefan smiled at her and watched as she disappeared up the stairs. Blair stared down the hallway to Damon's room. He was still probably fast asleep. It was too early to even be awake on a Sunday morning. She began taking off her cloak and headed for her room. She was taken aback by Damon who stood idly by her window, his far away thoughts retracted back into the corners of his mind as he was startled by her appearance.

"Where have you been, Blair?" He sounded generally irritated yet sincerely concerned.

"Out." She quipped.

"Out? Out where? A snow storm might just be rolling in and _you decide_ to go _out_? At _six o'clock_ in the morning?" The tone of his voice seemed to harden as he emphasized his points.

"My apologies," she gave him a brief nod, "you may leave my room now. You should not be in here anyway."

"Where did you go?"

"Did I not just say that I went out? Fine then. If you must know, I went for a walk in the woods."

"Why on earth would you go into the woods? You could have gotten lost. Or worse!"

"What is it with you people and me getting lost in your little forest? There was nothing but harmless trees and bushes there."

"Just don't tread the woods alone, alright? You never know what's hiding behind those harmless trees and bushes." His eyes narrowed down to her and walked towards her.

"What do you mean?"

"_Nothing_. Just do not go by yourself."

"I am not afraid of monsters, Damon. I can handle myself."

Damon only scoffed and made his way out, leaving Blair confused. She stared at her reflection in the mirror for the longest time and dropped her cloak on the cold floor to be forgotten. Her heart started palpitating like there was no tomorrow. Someone was in the woods. She did not know who or why and she did not bother dwelling on the thought of it simply because she had no excuse for being there also, but it worried her. The tracks she saw were not simply just a human's, but bare human feet, unless there was a shoe somewhere whose sole is created with five toes extended from the pad. Someone was there. And it frightened her.

The household gathered round for lunch. Blair still refused to talk to her mother and decided to pretend that she had gained interest in Giuseppe's stories of Stefan and of Mystic Falls, eventually bringing up the topic of a Founder's party for that night.

"I do apologize for not mentioning this earlier, Blair. An old chap like me has got a sea of things which are in more need of being thought of I guess. But I'm sure you would find something suitable to wear tonight, though." He said when Blair complained that she was not prepared for a gala and that her best dresses were in New York.

"And I'm sure Stefan would love to escort you, won't you dear?" Eleanor added and smiled that Waldorf smile that Blair had inherited from her.

"I'd be honored." Stefan said, smiling at Blair who smiled back at him. If she could have disappeared, she would have. Eleanor was setting her up right before everyone's eyes.

"How about you, Damon? Who do you plan on taking to the gala later?"

Ah Harold, always the peacekeeper. The fist of justice. The Waldorf man. Blair was surprised to even hear what her father had said to the man on her right. Damon was so silent and so invisible to the conversation that he almost didn't hear Harold.

"I don't think I could come, Mr. Waldorf."

"I think you should. It is a Founder's gala and I am positive everyone will be there. Come on, lad, break hearts." Harold smiled.

"If you put it that way then I might not be able to resist."

Blair was pleased. Her mother stopped trying to meddle into their conversations after that. She kept silent and took tabs on everybody and what they were talking about. Harold and Damon got into a discussion about the girls in Mystic Falls while Giuseppe explained the foundation of the Founding Families to Blair with a little help from Stefan. He seemed a little stiff but still cordial nonetheless. Blair however gave half of her attention to Damon and her father who talked like old friends. The way her father understood the youth made her proud. Not many parents had that ability to relate and understand. When she was younger she had a theory about parents being not of this earth. But of course, that was a long time ago.

That night the snow seemed to have come to a halt for the Founder's Gala. Harold, Eleanor, and Giuseppe arrived in a separate coach from the children at the Lockwood Mansion. The Waldorfs were introduced to the Lockwoods, the Fells, the Gilberts, and the Forbes.

"You have such a lovely daughter," Honoria Fell said to Eleanor as they watched Blair and Stefan go around the room.

"Thank you. I do believe I raised her well."

"Tell me. Is it true? Young Stefan's going to have her hand?"

"We are still trying to introduce her to that possibility."

"To ease her in? I see Blair as the type of girl who would rebel against it, but from the looks of it she's handling it quite well. I do not blame her though. To be wed to a Salvatore is quite a _big_ deal."

"As it is to be wed to a _Wal_dorf, Honoria." Harold said upon hearing the lady's comment.

Blair's eyes shifted from the girl Stefan's introduced to her, to her parents, and then back again. She wanted to know what they were talking about. She had a feeling their main topic comprised of her and marriage and Stefan. She rolled her eyes at them and tried to tolerate the blonde in front of her. If anything, the girl was dull and could have used a tighter corset. She spoke loudly to gain attention but the content of what she was saying was as shallow as the snow on the front steps of the mansion.

"I am bored," Blair whispered to Stefan.

"—I just hope one of the Gilberts notice me. I mean, they are Gilberts. I love how Mr. Gilbert creates these little knickknacks—" the girl continued, not really caring if Blair was listening or not.

"_Very_ bored," she said again. Stefan only nodded.

"This will only take a minute," he said back.

"I do not have time for this," she announced and slipped away from Stefan's arm. The blonde looked irritated with her and complained to the girl beside her. Stefan followed her out of the room to the back patio which overlooked vast greens that put a wedge between the house and the woods. It was freezing cold. He put a coat he had found on a coat rack on her and stood beside her silently.

"I know you are not enjoying this," Stefan finally said.

"So you _are_ smart enough to notice."

"But we don't have a choice if that's what they want of us."

"The thing is, Stefan, there is always a choice. We have many choices. It just simply depends on the accessibility of those choices. I, for one, will not choose this." She looked up at him to see, even though he tried to hide it, he was genuinely hurt. His eyes were focused somewhere in the darkness of the night as he held onto the balustrade that kept him from tipping over. "I am sorry though."

"I understand completely. You live by your rules, as people should. That's what I admire about you, and my brother too. Never ones for conformity."

"You should try it sometimes, Stefan. A life with your own set of rules. It's refreshing."

"Maybe I will one day." He smiled as she smiled with him. It was only then that Blair realized how much potential the younger Salvatore had. So much potential that she might consider him as a friend.

The pair never went back to the party and decided to further talk. Actually, Blair did more of the talking and Stefan allowed her to. She was very full of concepts and ideas which he considered as ahead of their time. He agreed to some of her speculations about life though as he let himself be swayed by her.

Blair admitted to herself that she might have misjudged Stefan. He was a man of substance after all. Despite her headstrong approach to some of the topics they talked about and how she dominated their conversation, Stefan presented really strong points too. His contribution might have been short but it was meaningful.

The guests later began to dwindle down and she found that the only people who were left were the Founding Families. She had not seen Damon since their arrival and Stefan had been called to a conference in one of the studies so she tried looking for him.

She went through the salon, the living areas, dens, guestrooms, but he was nowhere in sight. She sighed loudly in the empty hallway but then heard voices behind a door. With lack of anything to amuse herself, she pressed an ear to the door and started listening.

"How are the supplies, Honoria?" She heard Giuseppe say.

"Good. We have enough for everybody." Honoria reported.

"Good. Harold can start with just a small amount. I'm sure you can manage, right Harold?"

"Of course. Eleanor has a garden. We can make use of it."

They were talking about plants? What was it with these people and their garden herbs?

"I could come by tomorrow and show you how to make use of the vervain, Eleanor. We could discuss it over tea." Ah yes. That was the name of it—_vervain_.

"If the Waldorfs could easily be supplied with vervain, then why put Blair and I in a situation we both were not prepared for?" It was Stefan. Blair smiled at herself. She was satisfied with her slow influence growing on him, but then again she was always influential.

"For safety," Giuseppe said.

"The Waldorfs are allies now. They are moving up north. Vermont, Pennsylvania, New York. We need as many allies as we can. These—." Another voice added.

"Eavesdropping again, Miss Waldorf?" Damon cooed in her ear from behind.

If she could have melted, she would have. His low voice and the way his breath faintly grazed her cheek made her want to faint in his arms and not wake up. Her heart pumped erratically in surprise as she backed away from him, almost knocking over a vase.

"Where have you been? I have been looking everywhere for you." She scolded.

"Why? Have you missed me?" He smirked.

"Where did you go?"

"If you must know, I took your father's advice and broke hearts." He winked.

Her eye brows furrowed as he searched his face for answers. His being vague did not help her at all. But then she realized his shirt was misbuttoned and his hair was a mess. Once he noticed her brightness was slowly fading in dismay, he immediately felt guilt. He wiped the smug look on his face away, started walking towards her and held his hand out for her. Her eyes shot up at him and then his hand in confusion.

"Shall we head home?" He asked. "Council meetings often last a few hours. You seem tired."

She stared at him for a moment. She could not figure out Damon Salvatore. One second he's tough and rough around the edges, and another he's soft and so genuine that she found herself attracted to him; so attracted that just the thought of him being with someone else that night broke_ her_ heart. But she pushed her emotions aside and took his hand anyway because she knew in that moment he was at her service and for Damon Salvatore to be in anybody's service was… quite a big deal.

* * *

><p><strong>NA:** And so it begins. With just a touch of a hand and a whisper in her ear (and everything else Damon Salvatore). Ugh. So much Blamon, so little words to describe their epicness. I hope you liked this. Reviews are totally welcome. Suggest something! XOXO.


	3. Chapter 3

**I Shall Say Goodnight 'Til It Be Morrow**

Blair sighed with a smile on her face that morning as she browsed the books on one of the shelves in the small study. Hey eyes brightened in excitement as she scanned the vast collection of novels and collection of manuscripts and screenplays, from Austen to Hawthorne to the Brontes to Emerson. Although these were all spectacular authors, she still did not feel like their work was what she wanted to read. She was looking for something that could tug on her heart strings—something with romance, but not as tragic as her favorite Wuthering Heights, although she has often fancied meeting someone like Heathcliff who was so strong, masculine, and tough. She smiled at herself as her eyes wandered further down the collection.

"Miss Blair? Miss Eleanor ask for you." Dorota said, standing by the door.

"I shall be right down dear Dorota." Blair smiled at her as she held onto the book she found.

"Is Miss Blair feeling well today?" Her handmaid asked as they walked down the stairs.

"Of course, Dorota. Why would you ask such a question?"

"Well, this morning you woke up smiling… at everyone. Even Mr. Salvatore stable boy. And now you have that smile again. Something happen last night?"

Blair only smiled at her plump maid and waltzed into the breakfast nook where her mother was. She had tea for them. She hesitated. Tea usually meant talking in very long paragraphs. Most of the time she had to argue like a lawyer. It was not_ so _hard as Harold was one. She had seen him work.

"Blair, darling, you disappeared last night."

Blair sat across from her mother and poured herself tea after setting down the book. "I went home when I got tired of waiting."

"Yes. And Damon Salvatore accompanied you, correct?"

"Yes," she smiled. She couldn't help it. She could still feel the touch of his hand as he led her to their horses, despite the glove that was a barrier. He was not the perfect gentleman, unlike Stefan, yet it did not bother her at all. Before he retired to his bedroom he gave her a kiss on the cheek. She felt elated and free.

"Why?"

"_Why_?"

"Yes. Why? Were you so tired that you just had to run off with _him_?"

"Mother, you are being ridiculous."

"You and Stefan got along well last night at the party, correct?"

"Yes?"

"Yes. Why go after another Salvatore when you and Stefan have developed already then?"

"Where are you going with this conversation, mother? I was having a remarkably enjoyable day. Please do not ruin it."

"I am just saying that it is not appropriate for a lady to be seen alone with a gentleman whom she is not fit for?"

"I am not having any of this, mother. Not now. Not when for the first time since we've arrived I actually feel like I could like Mystic Falls."

"Then by all means, Blair. Indulge yourself with your fantasies and childish dreams, but at the end of the day you will have to grow up, and you will be marrying Stefan Salvatore."

"No!" She grabbed the book off of the table and ran as fast as should have ran in her heavy skirts up the stairs. She hesitated, looking back and forth from her room to the room at the other end of the hall. She chose the latter.

She opened his door and closed it, pinning herself against it. The room was a haven of his. It was full of candles, messy sheets, and books. He was perched on a chair reading one. It never occurred to her that Damon Salvatore was one to read books, but there he was, holding Poe in his hands.

Damon marked the page and closed his book. He stared at Blair, who was pink and out of breath, with one of his mother's books in her hands. Her eyes were confused and surprised. She just stared back at him, trying to catch her breath whilst trying to compose herself.

"Is anything the matter, Blair?" He asked, worried.

"I-I-ah," she let out a long sigh, "What are you reading?"

"The Oval Portrait," he smiled and sat up straight, "one of Poe's best work in my opinion."

"Oh? I haven't had the chance to read it. What is it about?" She walked toward him and sat on the floor. She looked up to him like a child needing a bedtime story.

"Well, to shorten it, it is about an eccentric painter depicting his wife, but he grew so obsessed with what he was creating that he paid no attention to his muse. When he finishes the painting he is appalled at his own work, and exclaims, 'This is indeed Life itself!' Then he turns to see his bride, and discovers that she has died and her spirit was transferred into the life-like painting."

"Why is it that the best works always involve death somehow? It's sad."

"Maybe the artists think death is beautiful."

"How could death be beautiful, Damon? It's death. You… _die_."

Damon laughed and stood. He offered him her hand and helped her stand up as well, and led her to his bed. She paused, analyzing the situation. It would not be proper to be in a gentleman's bed. Somehow he sensed her tension tilted her chin up to him with a smile.

"Do not worry, Miss Waldorf. I am only trying to give you a more comfortable place to sit." He let go of her and tried to smoothen the sheets and arrange his pillows, but she stood as still as the night.

"I was fine on the floor, thank you."

"Yes, you were, but you looked like a child and I want you to look like a lady."

She hesitated, as she hesitated to go inside his room, or even talking to him. But she let herself sit down with him. She was, after all, technically allowed to indulge herself.

"Do you think death could be beautiful?" She asked. It wasn't a far-fetched question. They were talking about it.

"I do," he smiled shyly. Suddenly she couldn't see the arrogant façade and the bad boy front. "How about you?"

"Sometimes," she said, looking down at her book. "Most of what I've read includes a certain death to boost the drama. Maybe I find it romantic."

"Ah, the old tale of Juliet and her Romeo," he look the book from her hands and began scanning through the pages.

She watched him as he scanned each page quickly. His eyes moved from line to line until a smile crept on his face. He looked at her and then back at the book.

"'See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, That I might touch that cheek!'" He sighed as she found herself putting her hand on her cheek, but quickly dropping it once she caught herself.

"Is it your favorite?" He asked.

"I haven't read it, not really. I've only seen it on the stage."

"You must read it then." He gave her back the book. "I remember having to read it when I was younger. Out loud, I must say. It was my mother's way of teaching me how to speak and read and write. She loved it."

"I'm guessing you were Romeo," she smiled.

"Yes! Of course. And we had a few people from the kitchen be the other characters in the play and she would be Juliet. I remember her suggesting the baby be Juliet one day. And when out came Stefan that dream was just forgotten." He cleared his throat. "I never got the chance to read it again after that."

"Why not?"

"Well I lost my Juliet. I had nobody to read it to. I remember being seven years old, cursing Shakespeare."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

"You do not need to be sorry Blair. There is beauty in death. In some way if my mother hadn't died then I wouldn't have met you."

"But she was your mother," she looked sad for him, genuinely sad. He smiled to lighten up the atmosphere but she still frowned.

"Yes, and I loved her, even though I vaguely remember her. And that's in the past now. What's here and what's now, that is what matters."

"Still—"

"Blair. Really. Let it go."

"I'm sorry," she looked back down to her fingers which lay idly on her lap.

He stared at her. She was fragile and young and trapped inside his world, which should have felt wrong. It shouldn't have been right. He shouldn't have told her so much about his mother. That was the one thing he never talked about to anyone, not even Stefan. The first time he laid his eyes on her he knew she was some sort of forbidden fruit.

"It's the messenger's fault." She suddenly said, looking back up at him.

"Excuse me?"

"The messenger. If the stupid thing only reached Romeo then he would have known of the plan and they would have lived happily ever after, like how it was meant to be."

"True. But what if they really weren't meant to be?"

"I refuse to believe that. They loved each other. They should have been together."

"Sometimes death is the only way for two people to be truly together."

"These writers are cruel. They never write happy endings."

"Maybe it's because happy endings aren't true to begin with. They write what is right."

"I refuse to believe that, too."

"Of course you would."

"Of course! Happy endings exist for everybody. Sadly, not everybody lives, or hopes, long enough to reach theirs."

"Sure, Blair. There you go. That explains the lot of it."

She frowned. Surely he believed in it too. If he didn't then why would she? She felt defeated and pathetic. Not only was she taken by this intricately made creature in front of her, but she has already found herself wanting to be able to take him in too. And too soon. It has been what? Less than a week since they have arrived in Mystic Falls, three days since she's met him, and yet it seemed as if she has known him all her life. And he purposely did so, make her feel that way, she thought. Did he really? He didn't seem like the type of person to reel his prey in with very touchy issues.

Before she could pull herself out of her daze, she is startled by his hand on her cheek. She could feel his heavy hands—not very soft yet not rough either, as he has never had to work or lift a finger to get whatever he wanted, may that be a material thing or a human being, ever in his life—on her cold, soft skin. His touch was hot, comfortable. He must have sensed her unease. She pulled back from him and demanded for the book back.

"If you do not believe in happy endings then I suggest not rereading Romeo and Juliet!" She said. It was only after she heard the words and how they escaped from her mouth did she realize how immature and childlike she was, which was something she dreaded for people to see.

Damon laughed at this. Of course. _That_ laugh. He has been laughing like that all morning. Was it to mock her? Was it because she was showing this childish, desperate, and weak side to her that he thought he could take advantage of it? The thoughts in her mind grew restless. How he immediately liked her and how she gave in to liking him just on the first day of their meeting was a lie. It had to be. It had to be some fabricated scheme of sorts set up by Mystic Falls' finest bachelor. He would take her in, let her feel safe, and then crush her like the bug she was appearing to be. Like a fly landing perfectly into the Venus Fly Trap.

It enraged her, although she did not know why. She knew how to scheme. She knew how to play this game. She was Blair Waldorf of The Upper East of Manhattan, a queen to her peers. She made girls cry and, on occasion, boys too.

"Give it back!" She said firmly, trying to reach for it.

"You have to try and snatch it from me first," Damon held the book up above his head, reaching high until he was kneeling on the bed.

"Give it back, Damon!" she reached up for it, but he waved the book another way, further away from her. She, too, got on her knees, not caring if her skirts lose its volume or perfectness. She reached up, like a child being taunted by this… this… demon. Yes. That's what he was, a demon. His eyes trained on her and only her.

Damon reached up and back and she scrambled to get the book, as if it was her only source of life. In some ways, it was. Romeo and Juliet died for love. They loved each other so much that neither of them wanted to be without the other. It was hope. It was Shakespeare showing her that such a love did exist, that nobody had to go through a fixed and organized engagement. It was rebellion.

She reached so far up that her chest was probably in his face, but she didn't stop. She needed to win. She never lost anything, never failed in doing what she had to do. And in that moment she had to show him she was not a child, although by the looks of it, it wasn't really going so well.

He leaned back and she leaned forward, determined, her eyes on the prize, his on her skin. He leaned back further, finally falling, with her falling on top of him. He wrapped an arm around her waist to stop her from falling off of the bed and she just lays there, helpless, defeated, mad. Her eyes were on his as she propped herself up with her hands, and they just stared at each other. She wanted to run out—of his room, of his house, of his life—back to New York, where she was safe from him.

Damon's hand reached up to her face. He tucked the stray strand of her hair behind his ear and kept his hand on her face, cupping her cheek, slowly pulling it closer to his. His eyes were like traps. Once you look into them, you may never have the ability to come back. You would just have to drown in the blue and gray. She was so close, so ready to give in, when she hears her mother's voice in her head. _At the end of the day you will have to grow up._

A knock on the door brought her panic and she pulled herself up on her feet. Damon sat up and rubbed his face with his tense hands. She watched as he did. His soft eyes turned hard and angry. Why was he angry? Was he angry at her? Did she do something wrong? Or maybe it was Stefan who just decided to suddenly appear out of nowhere.

"Damon, have you seen—"It only took a second for Stefan to step inside the room and realize Blair was there, "Oh, Blair! I've been looking for you."

"Why?"

"Your mother asked me to. She said something about calming you down."

She stared at him with hallow eyes, trying so hard not to give him the eye roll. Not really him, but her mother pushing two puzzle pieces that don't fit together, together. Did she not want for her daughter to be happy? Obviously her happiness was out of the question. It didn't matter.

Stefan stares back, his shy smile slowly fading. Maybe he saw the hurt in her eyes, and the irritation. Then he turned his attention to his brother who looked so distressed that he looked drunk. But he wasn't. He was just laying there, a book beside him, watching him and Blair as they talked—as _he_ talked, actually.

"Would you take me into town?" Blair finally spoke, "I would like to go out, even just a little while."

"Alright then," Stefan put his arm out for her, and she clings on it quickly, "see you later, brother."

Stefan couldn't have walked Blair fast enough down the stairs, to the horses. She just wanted to leave, be anywhere else, be without Damon and his eyes, and his hands, and his skin, and his lips. It wasn't right. He was playing with her after all, wasn't he? The painful stare he gave her as she glanced back at him before Stefan took her away was haunting her.

"Where do you want to go?" Stefan asked her as the horses started pulling them away from the Salvatore Estate.

"I honestly haven't a clue, Stefan. Take me somewhere nice." As they sat inside the coach, she realized she was still holding onto his arm. It was comfortable, clinging onto someone as stable as Stefan Salvatore. He was the sanest of them all, including her.

"What happened?" He asked, noticing the desperation in her voice. He must have picked up on something in Damon's room, how she stood awkwardly a few feet from the bed, how Damon crouched down and rid his face of any human emotions, how still they both were when he entered the room. It was all very obvious what they had done, or almost did.

"Nothing," she sighed, her eyes trained to the road outside. Everything was covered with white flakes. She loved it.

"Fine then, if you want to be like that, keep everything pent up inside until you burst like a bubble later on. It is your choice after all."

When she looked back at him Stefan had managed to put on a genuine smile, and she couldn't help but smile back. It was nice having a friend. An actual friend. Of course, he was technically her fiancé too but she was concocting a plan in her head that could set her, and him, free.

"Damon and I fought over Romeo and Juliet." She said nonchalantly. "It was a petty argument, really."

"How did it come about?"

"He was reading something of Poe's and then he asked about what I was reading. Somewhere along the way, since it was Romeo and Juliet, the thought of being with someone and living with them happily ever after sprung out. I said I believed in it."

"And he said he didn't?" Stefan offered, still with a smile on his face.

"He mocked me like I was some sort of child that knew nothing." She rolled her eyes.

"Well, Blair, Damon likes pretending to be this wild, obnoxious person. On the inside he believes in fairytales just like everyone else."

"Why am I having a hard time believing that?"

"Because his guard is usually it's toughest around people he couldn't figure out—people he genuinely wants to care about."

She had a quizzical look on her face that Stefan just chuckled at. She didn't add anything more to what he said. She was confused. That was it. She was confused—with herself, with Damon, with Stefan—the Salvatores really. All of them. She was determined to keep a solid picture of Damon Salvatore in her head. He was the rebel, the antihero, the heartbreaker, the big bad wolf that felt nothing other than love for his self and no one else. He wasn't supposed to be sweet, or humane. He was supposed to be a nuisance to her stay. Not the reason why she tolerated it. She wasn't supposed to kiss him, even if it was halted. The thought of merely kissing him shouldn't have even crossed her mind. But it did. And from then on it was all that she thought about.

* * *

><p><strong>NA:** That awkward moment when Stefan suddenly ships Blamon. What is this monster that I have created? Well I enjoyed writing it. I loved reading Romeo and Juliet again. I hope you stay tuned. XOXO.


	4. Chapter 4

**We're Lost 'Til We Learn How To Ask**

Blair, in spite of herself, gave in to being the child she was. She was seventeen. Young. Naïve. Will learn one day. But not that cold December. The snow slowly began to fall harder, making trips to town less likely. When it was snowing out, she would sit by the fire in the small study, claiming it as her own. She noticed that nobody went inside there long enough. She wouldn't have found it surprising if she saw one of the help sidestep it. Why though? It was the most beautiful room in the house. It was secluded and felt far away from the Salvatore Estate, far away from Mystic Falls. There, she felt safe.

When it wasn't pouring white flakes outside, she would put on her cloak and take a walk, not bothering to tell anybody about it. She would go back just in the nick of time. She didn't wander far, at least not far enough for her. Once she attempted to reach Fell's church. Someone told her it was nearby, on the other side of the wood, but the snow began to fall and she didn't want to lose her tracks.

She avoided Damon, locking herself in her room or in the study, which automatically makes it her domain. He, however, sprawls around the house casually. It _was_ his house after all. He could do whatever he wanted. And what he wanted was to make his presence unbearable to Blair. He would pick on her little flaws during the unavoidable family dinners. And occasionally, he would comment on how hers and Stefan's wedding was going to be the town's most coveted event, in which Blair would only smile her sarcastic smile at him and then roll her eyes.

For a week she tried to rid herself of the pang in her chest when she remembered the situation she was in with Damon. It didn't work. She still woke up at night from nightmares involving him, poison, and the Shakespearean era. It also included wedding once, that Sunday night. She jolted up from bed and braced herself with a pillow before she saw her groom's face. It was probably Stefan. All of the wedding talk must have gotten to her.

She glanced at her window and decided not to go back to sleep since it was almost dawn anyway. Instead, she slipped in her housedress and slippers and decided to go down to the kitchen to watch the cooks make breakfast. They were the first to rise, always, she noticed. And every time she woke up from those nightmares just before the morning made an appearance, she would hear them from the study, chit chatting and gossiping—usual townspeople activities.

This morning she heard a few laughs as she approached the kitchen. Something funny must have happened at the market and one of them probably reenacted the scene for the rest of them to see. How wrong she was for the source of their laughter was the source of her irritability.

"Good morning, Miss Blair," one of the younger ones said. "Bad dream again?"

"I'm afraid so." She said simply, disregarding Damon. He was perched atop a stool and watched her as she sat on one of the chairs. The girl who greeted her gave her a cup of chocolate almost immediately after acknowledging her presence.

"Come here often?" Damon asked. Blair had to take a moment to figure out of he was really speaking with her or just another one of the help.

She collected her thoughts. Saying something back meant having a conversation, which she really was not in the mood to have. Ignoring him would simply be rude.

"Yes," it dripped with sarcasm and annoyance, but that didn't seem to faze him. He smiled cautiously.

"So what is this supposed bad dream about?" He offered.

"Nothing of your concern, Mr. Salvatore," Blair got up with her mug of chocolate and walked long, careful strides to the study where Damon was not allowed. It was the unspoken rule. But Blair forgot Damon was not a man who liked rules, spoken or not. He followed her shortly, finding her on the floor near the fireplace. She was wrapped around a throw, a book on her lap. She was not reading it though. Her eyes were trained on the fire.

He sat on the couch behind her, crossed his legs and spread his arms on the rest, and watched her. Her long, brown hair cascaded down her back like waves no sailor should dare brave. The dim lights and the glow of the fire did wonders for it. He had an urge to touch it, but he didn't. He couldn't. He knew she knew he was there, but still she remained statue-like, as if waiting for something.

He wanted to talk, say anything to break the uncomfortable silence between them, but for the first time in his life he is at loss of words. He stripped his mind away of all the flowery words he's collected and decided to settle on something so simple that even he won't mess it up.

"I'm sorry," he said. He felt like he was holding his breath before the jump in a lake for a swim.

"For what?" she said back, still not moving.

Of course she would do that. He should have predicted that nothing was ever simple for Blair. It just wasn't how things worked for her. There had to be a catch, an intricate detail, spoilage. It was as if she didn't want to be happy at all.

"For making fun of you, I guess," he sat up straight and uncrossed his legs, "for Romeo and Juliet, too."

"Hm," she scoffed.

"Most of all I'm sorry for not saying sorry earlier." I had to be selfish and relish myself in your misery. "I know you're not happy here and I should have been a better host instead of being-" he trailed off, desperate for a reaction from her, but he let her continue with his speech.

"I should have been a better host instead of being an obnoxious brat." He finished.

"You were, weren't you?"

Why was she making this so difficult? He was supposed to say sorry and she was supposed to say that it was alright, but apparently it wasn't. What has he done anyway? He tried to recall everything that's ever happened between them, but he couldn't see a single flaw that could upset her other than that fight about the book and him picking on her. Unless she somehow still thought about that almost-kiss.

"I am _not_ sorry I tried to kiss you, though, if that's what you're trying to say."

She turned to him and stood up, letting the throw fall down on the floor. He expected her to be mad, or even the slightest bit annoyed. But she just wasn't. Maybe she figured it meant nothing. It did mean nothing, didn't it? No, he decided, was the answer. He wanted to kiss her. It was not a spur of the moment. It was something he has been working around on since the first time he caught sight of her lips.

"What?" He asked, noticing that hint of delight in her eyes that he hasn't seen for days.

"Why would you do that?" She was being vague again.

"Why would I do what?"

"Why would you _want_ to kiss me?"

He stared at her, confused, possibly dumbfounded by this girl who was just that—a girl. Everyone around her tried to make her a woman when she was just too young to know any better. Nobody has ever asked Damon why he would kiss them. They just simply obliged, not caring. It was Damon Salvatore, after all.

"What ever reason would I have to not want to kiss you, Blair?" He said honestly.

"I honestly do not know. Maybe it is due to the fact that you and I, we're never going to work. Not here. Not in this time."

He raised an eyebrow. Did she just acknowledge the slightest bit of possibility that there was something between them? As if she had read his mind, she took a step forward and smiled.

"We'll never survive it." She said, sounding sad.

"I never took you for a weakling, Blair," he showed no sign of amusement. He wanted her to know how serious all of this was for him. He, too, was surprised to see himself this baffled about an affair. He was, after all, the best man to have one with… in his opinion anyway.

She was precious. It would destroy her if any of this thinking was to be extracted from the four walls of the room. Then he remembered her mother. What would she have thought?

"I'm not suggesting anything. Damon, I am to be wed to your brother in spring," she let the sentence hang in the air with all the pain that they both had with it. The smile she offered was replaced by lips trying their hardest not to quiver.

"Then _what are you_ suggesting, Blair? Talk to me _now_. Speak _now_," he sighed, "or forever hold your peace."

She took a quick glance at the door, which was closed. She just had to check. She just wanted to feel safe. And in that moment she felt like she was deliberately throwing herself over a cliff, head first, without anybody to catch her but sharp rocks and maybe some tree branches.

When she didn't answer him, he stood and walked towards her. He was merely inches away from her, still not touching though, but staring. There he was again, drowning her in his eyes. It was like she was in a trance. All of her power to even move has been stripped away from her. There was just the multiple depths of blues and grays in his eyes, which went well with the detailing in the room, and then there were his lips, so soft, so delicate.

On her own soft and delicate lips.

As soon as she realized this, it was over. He was three inches away from her again. So close. But it felt like he was miles away on the other side of the world with an invisible wall between them. Without thinking, her hand goes up and touches her lips lightly. Yes, it did happen. It wasn't one of her daydreams where she imagines the almost-kiss. It was real. She felt it this time.

His hands remained behind his back. Somehow it showed the youth in him, like a school boy back at New York. Suddenly she saw everything flash in front of her. He would fit right in in New York yet still be the country boy that he was. And that would be okay with her. He was fine just the way he was. She wouldn't change him for the world.

"Are you ready to speak now, Blair?" he asked. Her big brown eyes remained distant in a world she was already creating in her head. Perhaps his kissing only made it worse because as she came about, she had a smile on her face. Somehow he knew they were going to be okay.

She did speak eventually though, when he started walking back to the couch, her hand reached out to grab hold of his. With a new brightness in her, she said, "I know what I want." She wanted him. She wanted to run away, as she had always wanted but too scared to do so alone. She never mentioned the running away part though, not yet. Everything was still fresh and beautiful.

"It will get worse before it becomes better," Damon said. It has been three days since then. The night was silent and all he could hear was Blair's breathing as she lay in his arms, his hand resting just where his heart was, her head comfortably resting on his shoulder. He waited 'til midnight to sneak inside her room where she said she would be waiting. They have been meeting like this for three days. In the dark. In her room. Midnight.

His hand was stroking her arm as he stared at the ceiling. He wondered when the day their confinement in this room would end. They were careful, of course. He snuck out before dawn. They still put a front of being irritable toward each other when they were gathered in a room together. Stefan had no clue. Somehow Damon felt bad, guilty even. He didn't want to harm his brother, or worse, hurt him.

"Then we should prepare for just that," she said, breathing into his neck. He could tell she was already falling asleep. She was never one to stay up late anyway. He knew this somehow.

"Goodnight, Blair," he gave her a kiss atop her head as she murmured her goodnight.

And they do this two nights more, until it was time for Christmas Eve. The household has already been in a state of cheer. Giuseppe even smiled. A real smile as he brought out his oldest wine from his cellar. He promised a good, hearty Christmas meal to the Waldorfs.

Stefan had accompanied Blair that day out to town. She already had gifts for everyone, but she remembered everyone else—the cooks and the stable boys. She panicked and asked Damon to go with her but he was stuck at home with his father trying to sneak a Christmas sermon telling him that brothels are closed for the holidays so he better stay put and help with the festivities.

"Why are you in such a good mood?" Stefan asked on their way home. The snow had stopped falling since midmorning and everything was clearer. All of her gifts were perfectly wrapped and sat on the further side of the coach past Stefan.

"It's Christmas, Stefan. Why shouldn't I be in a good mood?" She cocks an eyebrow at him with a smirk on her face.

"Are you happy?" He asked. A lame question like that would have been shunned immediately by Blair, but she didn't.

"Yes," she said honestly, "for the first time, yes."

"That's good," he paused, "does it have anything to do with Damon sleeping in your quarters?"

Blair's smile quickly drops into a frown. No. Not a frown. A scowl. How long has he known? When? Why? Why now? Was he going to tell? But the real question that was banging in her head was: was he okay with it? He didn't look the least bit angry. His expression was neutral, as always.

"I saw him leave the other morning so I waited that night to see if he would sneak in again. I was right."

Blair continued to stare at him, still speechless. What was she to do? She knew Stefan was smart, observant. There was really nothing left to say. He's figured it out already.

"I won't tell," he promised, "but what are your plans?"

Just as she was about to explain to him that they did not have any concrete plans at all, the coach came to a halt, jerking both of them forward. She heard horses. They were startled by something.

"Umpires!" Blair heard the coachman though his voice was muffled. Umpires? She must have heard it wrong. Maybe it was some term in Mystic Falls.

Stefan pulled up their seats and revealed a secret compartment. It was full of various sticks, bottles of water, and guns. He took three guns and loaded them up with bullets as she watched idly by, frantic.

"What's going on, Stefan?" she asked, panicked.

"Stay here," he handed her a stake, "if anybody comes, stab them."

"What—?" before she could ask anything more he was out of the coach.

She heard a few gun shots, and then yelling, and then finally silence. She held onto the stake, clutching tightly. Suddenly, the door swung open. A man in a dark coat was grinning at her.

"Stay back," she shouted, holding the stake between them.

"So this is Blair Waldorf," he said. He took the stake from her hand in such force that she stumbled forward. He then took hold of her wrist and yanked her out of the coach, bringing her to her feet.

"Get your filthy hands off me! Who do you think you are?" Her eyes wandered on the road, searching for Stefan, their coachmen. One of the latter was sprawled near the front of the coach, the other was missing. Stefan was further away, on the ground. He wasn't unconscious but he couldn't quite move right either. He was struggling to get up. A woman in the same black attire was next to Stefan. She was definitely unconscious. Maybe even dead.

"What have you done to Stefan?" She demanded. His grip on her arm was unbelievably painful. She knew it was no use trying to break free.

"Oh he's all right. You however…" His mouth was so close to her ear that it disgusted her. "Hurry up, Salvatore. Wouldn't want a corpse bride, would you?"

"Let her go. She has nothing to do with this." Stefan yelled.

"I'm going to count to ten and if you aren't at my feet by then, then you could kiss your fiancé goodbye."

"No!"

"One… two, three, four, five, six,"

"Stop it." Stefan was on his feet now, still crouching and limping though, on his way towards them.

"Eight, nine," the man smirked and tilted Blair's head forcefully to one side that she thought he might have broken her neck. Stefan was only a few feet away, but she knew he'd never make it in time.

"_Ten_," he whispered in her ear, before a shark pain buried itself at the base of her neck. Her eyes widened as she realized it was him. He was biting her, drinking her blood, killing her. With this realization came another. It wasn't umpire the coachman was saying.

It was _vampire_.

* * *

><p><strong>NA:** Behold, the vampires! Honestly, I'd like to think the chapter title is appropriate, don't you? This took way too long to update. I was contemplating on whether to start Blamon now, but I decided I can't hold it much longer. I needed them to happen now xD I hope you love this! XOXO.


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